


To Live or To Die in Los Santos

by Little_Bo_Bleep



Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Action/Adventure, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 08:19:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17240765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Bo_Bleep/pseuds/Little_Bo_Bleep
Summary: Los Santos, a place where its streets are forever full of bustling traffic, and its citizens in a constant hustle. Long are the days of Michael De Santa, as he retires in the sunny city.Until the recent revival of old friends, and two, new inexperienced youngsters (one of which has caught his eye), he won't be able to keep up with the usually fast-paced city.





	To Live or To Die in Los Santos

Michael was tired of hearing of the screaming war between his wife and daughter. And for once, his trusted old scotch didn't hit the spot, and Phil Collins wasn't enough to drown out his problematic family. He sighed, setting his drink onto the table next to his lounge chair, and wrapped the headphones around his iFruit.    
  
He grimaced as he glanced over to his mansion, seeing Tracy through the glass door, as she stomped her foot, and run away. Amanda threw her arms up in frustration, and stormed after her. This was certainly the peak in their careers as parents.    
  


 He sighed, wanting anything but this situation. And, lo and behold, came a flyer whiffling through the wind, and it settled in his pool. His curiosity peaked, Michael waltzed over to hopefully read it before it got ruined. 

  
"SOLOMUN - 9/28   
VINEWOOD HILLS"

  
  It read. At the bottom corner, he could read the specific address for the club.    
  
  Screams brought him back to reality. He rose up off his kneeled position, and quickly snuck off to his car before anyone could see.    
  


  
  
 As he slowed down to a stop, he could already hear the beat of the music, even though he had been listening to the radio at a fairly high volume. He exhaled once more through his mouth, now beginning to doubt his decision to come to a club of all places; maybe he should just have stuck to a bar.    
  
  But, he was here already, so he might as well go inside.   
  
  Grunting as he stood up, he shut the door, and the car echoed as he locked it with his keys. He stood behind the small line of three people, but it eventually grew after the first few had entered.    
  
Once inside, he could hear the funky synths playing, and noticed the posters on the walls advertising for Solomun. After paying the initial entrance fee, he made his way down two sets of stairs, and was welcomed by the sight of a bar, tended by a young brunette woman. But he decided to keep walking, until he was met with the sight of bright neon lights flashing, and a dance floor full of people. The music was much louder down here.    
  
  Left and right, there were people everywhere. If he even thought about dancing, he didn't think he could find a place to do so on the ground. So he stayed back, observing his surroundings, until his eyes landed on a figure that stood out from the crowd: a very young woman, leaning against one of the chain link fences. She had very short blonde hair, a straw hat sitting atop her head. She wore a light-colored bustier, and a tight mini skirt, that had Michael wondering things a married man should be wondering.    
  
 Although her head bobbed along to the beat of the music, he noticed she was focused on something. And then he followed her gaze, seeing that she was eyeing a red-haired girl in an elegant white dress. He realized she must've been crushing on her, and the thought of the cute sentiment made him smile, unbeknownst to himself.    
  
Unfortunately, the pretty woman seemed to leave the area, beginning to navigate the crowd, leaving his sight for a moment. Soon he found her little hat, and watched as she walked up, past the DJ, and entered a room on the second floor. Michael couldn't really guess what it was for, maybe the bathroom for all he knew. But for now, he thought he'd wait until he found her again.    
  
  
  20 minutes later, Michael found himself at the upstairs bar, drinking his stress away. But it wasn't enough to get drunk or really forget anything, no, he was just getting started. He turned around, leaning against the counter, and this time he noticed an idiot with orange glow stick dancing away; it made him chuckle, and take another swig of his beer. He also saw a familiar person exiting from the black door, and realized it was the girl from earlier.   
  


  His eyes followed her, as she made her way over to the bar Michael was at. This time, her hat was gone. Instead, her hair was a ruffled mess, and he noticed she looked a little banged up. She sat on the stool next to him, ordering a shot of Richard's Whisky. She drank it down, withstanding the harsh taste.    
  
"So, what were you looking at?" She spoke all of a sudden.    
  
"Uh, nothing." Michael stuttered. The girl raised her brow with a smirk.    
  
"Really, because it sure didn't seem like nothing." Her husky voice teased.    
  
"You look good, alright?" Michael replied in a defeated tone. She chuckled.    
  
"I'm just pulling your leg. I've had a rough night." She grabbed her glass, and started fiddling with it.    
  
Michael was exasperated. "Tell me about it."   
  
"Really?" The blonde cocked her head slightly.    
  
"Well, I don't see why not."   
  
"Then maybe we should take it to the VIP room; I can hardly hear a thing that you say."   
  
Before Michael could even respond, it didn't seem like he was going to be able to turn it down. So he took one last drink, and followed after her.    
  
Inside the VIP room, the music was mostly blocked out, the vibrations of the rhythm in the walls. In front of them was a dark glass door that the girl didn't hesitate to open.    
  
After that door, he was officially inside. There were two computers in the center, and another dark door behind them. The girl turned around the corner, where there sat a bar with a large variety of alcohols, and a sitting area. She grabbed the bottle of whisky from the bar, and brought it over to the coffee table in the lounge.    
  
Pouring herself a drink, she began, "So, how has your day been?"   
  
"I've had better."   
  
"Haven't we all?" She chirped.    
  
"Says the one that looks like they just went to Hell and back in the last 20 minutes."   
  
She scoffed. "How would you know what I've been doing the past 20 minutes?"   
  
"Well, you have that mean bruise underneath your elbow for starters." Michael helped himself to some of the whisky placed on the table, while the girl checked her arm.   
  
"As a motorcyclist, scrapes and bruises are a common injury."   
  
"Is that blood on your side?"   
  
She looked down at her sides, and found blood on the left side of her hip.    
  
"Had to make a shipment." She said cooly.    
"Huh." Michael retorted back.    
“Got little bit of a black eye going on.”

 

“Sometimes you fly off the bike.” She defended.

 

"Tell you what, let's play a little game." She wandered over to the bar, where he saw a line of shot glasses.    
  
"Think you can out drink me?" She smiled slyly.    
  
"Kid, you don't know what you're getting yourself into."

 

“I think I do.” She began pouring alcohol into each glass. 

 

“Seems a bit like a dirty company to me. Where do those elevator doors lead?” He leaned on the counter. 

 

“If you win, I'll tell you. But if I win, you gotta tell me what's really going on in that head of yours.” The corners of her red lips curved upwards. 

 

“We'll see.” With that, Michael began to drink from the glasses.

  
  
  


“And now Trevor’s been dead for the past 10 years.” He slurred.

 

“Aw, dude, how could you do you-your homeboy like that?” Kamilla was saddened. 

 

It hurt Michael too that the one person he had ever really relied on was now dead. He poured another shot, in hopes of dulling the pain. 

 

“Don't be like me kid. You should run this nightclub legally, it's much easier.”

 

“Maybe, but it's better like this. It's so much more fun like this.” 

 

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I think that's why I miss it too..” Michael looked down at the shot glass, staring at the reflection of the light in the booze. 

 

“You look like you need to work on your aim, though. That's more wounds than you should be getting if you want to live to see another day.” He warned. 

 

“I know. I've been meaning to go to the Ammu-Nation store’s shooting range, but I feel like I'd have more experience through doing actual jobs.” 

 

“Tell you what: if I ever hear of anything, you'll be the first to know, all right?”

 

“Yeah, hopefully something better than Lester’s usual missions.” Kamilla complained. 

 

“L-Lester? As in Lester Crest?” Michael couldn't believe he was still active, and had her as an associate. 

 

“Yeah, know him by chance?”

 

“Just another old friend.” he smiled. He checked his phone, and saw it was already 5am. 

 

“Ah, shit. It's already five? I gotta go.” He shuffled up, out of his chair, and put it back into place. He stole one last glance at Kamilla. 

 

“Bye Michael.” She purred, resting her chin on both her hands. 

 

“See you soon, Kamilla.” He nodded, his voice raspy. He stood there, for a moment, a very slight moment, feeling tension in the air. He recognized that  _ exact _ feeling that was there, but he ignored it, and went along his way. 

 

 

For once in his life, Michael didn't act on his sexual impulses. Kamilla was so young and attractive, it confused him why he didn't. But the question was something he'd probably answer later, because now, he just wanted the warmth of his bed. 

Back home, everything was quiet, for once. Closing the front door, he walked up the steps, into his room. He took a much needed nap, into the early afternoon.

 

He awoke to the sounds of Jimmy playing video games, and Tracy talking, most likely on the phone. The sun seeped into his room, leaving a warm glow. He decided it was time to get dressed, even if all he should do today is lounge by the pool. 

  
After he was finished putting clothes on, he noticed someone outside, through the ajar window. It was a young man sneaking through his yard. He furrowed his brows, remembering that his son had recently bought a new car that was a complete rip off by the way, and that the company would attempt to repossess it. 

 

So Michael quickly made his way down the stairs, into the garage. He realized there was no way to hide, so he ran back inside and found a random blanket thrown on the couch. He grabbed it, and returned to his spot within the truck. 


End file.
